The Fall of Icarus
by The-Grace-Beneath-It-All
Summary: Summary: pre-series into AU, Instead of a nice 'white collar' prison, Neal was sent to Johnston's, things happened that will change our favorite con man forever. Neal wump, hints to noncon, will be slash. PxN, maybe PxExN Rating subject to change.
1. The Fall

Summary: pre-series into AU, Instead of a nice 'white collar' prison, Neal was sent to prison, things happened that would change our favorite con man forever. Neal whump, hints to non-con, will be slash. PxN, maybe PxExN. Hey, it's Grace, Never done a White Collar fic… but here it goes. If there is a Johnston's high security prison… well, then maybe I'm not as original as I thought I was…I own nothing.

He was doing this for her, He told himself this repeatedly. Kate had been his lifeline, his hope that one day this nightmare would be over and he could have a 'normal' life. That word, normal, would never be a fit for a man like Neal Caffrey; he was a con man. Life was never fair for his kind and he had gotten careless; which was usually a fatal mistake. It was the final day of his court hearing; he already knew what the jury would say. He had flown too close to the sun and had been burned, all because he loved her. Those bonds were not his; he had taken the fall for them so Kate would not have.

And now here he was, sitting on a rather uncomfortable chair with chains on his arms and legs as though he were a threat to society. His lawyer and closest friend Mozzie sat beside him; his left leg twitched with nerves. The judge sentenced him to four years in Johnston's; despite Mozzie's adamant protest. Neal quietly told Mozzie to be quiet, not wanting the other con to be thrown in for contempt. Agent Burke was wrong. Peter had told him after their three year cat and mouse game that he'd be taken to a white collar prison. Apparently the judge had a different plan, because he'd had the book thrown at him, figuratively of course. Judge DeSalvo sentenced him to Johnston's based on the idea of "making him see the error of his ways" by "showing him he was just as much a criminal as any other convict." He schooled his features to a blank stare and slight smirk as the judge delivered his sentence, trying to avoid the look of subtle shock that appeared on Peter Burke's face.

Four years in a prison with one of the worst reputations in the country. He stood stoically as the guards walked over to him, each placing and arm in a vice-like grip, as they directed him to his temporary holding cell, his leg irons clanging with each step.

The holding cell was dark; the florescent light flickered from the ceiling as though a warning of the life he had to look forward to for the next four years. Four years caged in the dark, four years without freedom, four years without Kate._ Four years without Kate_. It was as though he was just realizing this for the first time. He failed her, she was too ashamed to even show up to his hearing. He promised life would be better, and now he was going to prison and she was nowhere to be found. Way to go, Caffrey. He slumped down on the poor excuse for a bench and placed his head in his hands. He sat there for; he did not even care for how long. For the next four years time would be a distant concept anyways, completely dependent on meals and work release (not that he would be eligible). He flinched slightly at the sound of the door opening, someone stepped up to the cell.

"You really screwed up now eh, Caffrey?" Peter Burke. Just the person he did not want to see. He refused to look up to see the smug look that was most likely plastered on the agents face. He heard the FBI agent step closer to the cell.

"What do you want, Peter?" he asked, still refusing to look at the man responsible for his current predicament. The man in the rather hideous suit, if Neal said so himself, shifted on his feet.

"You had to know that you'd get caught eventually." he said simply. Caffrey shook his head, finally looking at Burke.

"Yeah, you made pretty sure of that." the con man said ruefully, finally bothering to look up to the agent. There was a glint of sympathy in the agent's eyes. At least the man felt something for ruining Caffrey's life.

"It was my job." That was it? It was my job? What kind of an excuse was that? Sorry Neal, I need to send you to prison just so I can get my paycheck. He shook his head; apparently, the agent was not done.

"Look, just keep a low profile, don't start anything and don't try to escape and the time will fly." he did not know that. He could not know that. What did the other man know about going to prison? He had only sent people there, people like him. Instead, he put on a sly grin and replied.

"So basically like the last few years, huh?" Peter shook his head, taking the bait Neal placed in front of him.

"Yeah, well just remember how well that worked out." That struck a nerve; Neal looked down and suddenly finding the chains still around his wrists and ankles more interesting. The agent must have realized his mistake, he never was good with sentimental conversations, and tried once more.

"So, I guess this means no more cards, huh?" Neal looked up at the man, genuine disbelief on his face. Of all the things to say, only Peter. he thought while shaking his head.

"Because I have to say; El loved the Christmas one last year." Agent Burke said with his best fake grin as he took a closer look at the man who would be spending the next four years in hell. He was unusually quiet, understandable given the fact that the kid wasn't even out of his twenties yet for God sake. He did not have a violent bone in his body, hell; Neal hated guns. Still a judge who had not even looked past the forged bonds decided his fate. He would never make it through Johnston's. Peter could not let the younger man see the doubt in his eyes, he turned around aiming to leave the room- he really was no good with emotions. He tried to ignore the clang of Neal's handcuffs as the other man fidgeted in his seat.

"Goodbye Caffrey, It's been real." He left the room before he could see the stricken look on the con man's face.


	2. Baskov

Chapter 2

A/n: Hey, it's Grace again; long time no see, right? Sorry about the unreasonable hold up and sub-sequential (big word for an A/N, huh?) re-uploading of this fic. I changed the prison name, small facts here and there (nothing major, mostly grammar and slight phrasing) going to skip around with Neal's prison sentence, keep some things vague and some things I do not own Wiley Coyote and roadrunner. In addition, I assume prison food is not much better than the crap the tried to feed us in high school.

Warnings for this chapter: Neal whump (the variety kind)

Blue eyes flittered open to a now familiar world of concrete, Neal groaned in dismay as he rolled off his cot. Another monotonous day in the life of Neal Caffrey- the convict.He paced around his cell as he had done as of lately, it kept him active; kept him sane. One of the guards, Officer Clark Beddor, offered to smuggle him supplies from the small art room on the other side of the ward in his next shift. That was still three hours away and the suspense was beginning to kill the con artist. Of course, he knew he would have to keep whatever Beddor brought him hidden; Corman would not be pleased if he knew one of his officers was insubordinate. Officer Frank Corman was an older man set in his ways, he looked upon every inmate as though they were the scum of the earth; and maybe some of them were. That was one of the reasons why Neal kept to himself in his cell. His cell which surprisingly was a single cell; Peter had say in that, Neal had no doubt in his mind. And, Neal did not mind at all; if anything, he owed the suit a debt of gratitude. Well, he would have if the man had not been the reason for his imprisonment.

That was a lie, he was not angry with Peter, he was the greatest challenge the con man had faced and he relished the thrill of outsmarting the agent every chance he got. He was the other man's roadrunner, dodging every FBI funded 'anvil' with quick precision. He was angry, however, with Judge DeSalvo for putting him in this hellhole full of murderers and other stains of humanity. Neal shifted again, changing direction in the small cell; attempting to will time to move faster. Today was looking to be a good day, not only would he be able to finally draw again, but also it was Mozzie's day to visit him. He tried to drown out his disappointment in the fact that Kate had yet to visit him at all in his first year of Johnston's. She probably had her reasons. Hell, Mozzie, hated visiting him in this dump. Kate was a big girl; she could take care of herself.

Mealtime came, only one hour away from Beddor's shift; Neal noted mentally. It was the only time he left his cell, willingly; he saw no point in conning any of these people let alone spending more time than necessary with them. He took his tray of prison slop and took a seat on the far end of a bench. Right away, he felt the prickle of the hair on the back of his neck. He turned around to see a man from across the room, gleaming salaciously at him. Neal stifled a shudder, as he looked away, the man stood up strolled over. He stood over six feet tall, medium frame with dark eyes and hair.

"Hello" a mild Russian accent poured over the word. Neal suppressed a cringe at the sight of the man's yellow teeth. The con artist looked around subtly for a kind guard, the kind that were in short supply around here, much to his dismay he saw no one.

"Hello" he responded, masking his revulsion in faux amicability. The man ignored any undertone Caffrey was willing to let slip and sat beside him on the bench. He pushed his way none to subtly closer to Neal.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" _ugh, did he seriously use that line, wait, no no no._ Neal's mind snapped into realization. He shrugged an arm he had not noticed before off his shoulder.

"A couple years, you?" he responded sarcastically, moving to get up, only to be stopped when a strong grip on his wrist pulled him back down. He winced as he felt bruises forming around his wrist. The grin on the man's face morphed into a sneer, the man himself changed from an almost friendly inmate to a brutal criminal.

"Do not screw with me. You will not find the result most unpleasant. The name is Baskov, Kristof Baskov. Yours?" his eyes left no room for argument.

"Caffrey, Neal Caffrey." he mimicked the man slightly, countering it with a drop of good nature.

"Well, Caffrey; I could make sure the remainder of your stay is as comfortable as possible if you know what I'm saying" He leered at Neal, making him mentally cringe, no way in hell would he agree to that. He had some dignity and Kate was waiting for him.

"Look, Kris, may I call you Kris? I'm flattered, really; but I have a girlfriend." Kristof was undeterred; he gave Neal a smug smirk.

"So, that's not stopping me. She's not here now is she?" Neal was beginning to panic, though he masked it well.

"Well, that is great for you." He attempted to remove his hand from Baskov's but to no avail.

"You will change your mind eventually, Caffrey. And when you do, I will be waiting" he wrenched Neal's arm slightly before letting go, Neal hissed in pain as he cradled his wrist. Baskov rose from his seat and made his way back to his previous table. He glanced mournfully at his wrist, which was now most likely sprained. So much for the supplies Beddor was bringing him, he sighed. He stood from his seat and began his walk back to his cell.


	3. The Guardian Abandons his Post

Chapter 3

Warning: Neal whump (the varied kind) as usual. And me shamelessly tweaking dialogue to harass Neal a little better.

Disclaimer: I repeat, for the record; I own nothing

Sorry it's been taking soo long. My computer died (had to buy a new one) and I lost the original file. Hopefully this is as good as the original. The fourth chapter is gonna be up in a week. I need Microsoft word... -_-'

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Two hundred and eighty six lines on the wall. Two hundred and eighty six days of hell. Neal turned disdainfully from the wall; placing the sharpie, that had become his calendar, under his cot. Reaching under the cot, He took the time to take in his latest project. His hands grasped the small portrait lovingly. Kate's face stared up at him with bright eyes and a mischievous smile. He'd finished the small charcoal as soon as his wrist healed from the incident. The smile fell from the young con's face as he thought of him, Baskov. That name tasted like bile in his mouth. The man had taken a sick liking to watching him whenever he left his cell. That was the main reason Neal stayed in his cell most of the almost ten months of his time at Johnston's. Neal considered himself lucky though, Beddor had recently taken up more shifts, which meant he could stay in his cell instead of going out into the yard for exercise. On certain occasions, he even brought Neal's meals to his cell and even allowed the con-man to listen to his iPod.

On the rare days when Beddor was not working, Corman patrolled his ward. Those were days when Neal had to hide his supplies- the charcoals and colored pencils were stashed in his pillow (he d long since run out of paints), his papers were stashed under the frame of his flimsy cot. Those were days Neal loathed, days when he had to leave his cell. One day, Neal tried to tell Corman of his reasons to stay in the cell; the guard only replied "Cowboy up, Caffrey."

Neal hated that stupid phrase, who said that anyway? What was this, an old western? Placing the portrait of Kate back under his cot, Caffrey stared bored at the wall of lines; not even a year gone by. The conman waited patiently for Beddor's arrival; after all, the man was his only visitor. Kate never visited him and, Mozzie; at least when he still visited, had no news for him. Kate had vanished and Mozzie was off doing whatever he was doing. He'd asked the shorter man to stop visiting after his outburst after a rather physical confrontation with another inmate left Neal with a black eye and a dislocated shoulder. Mozzie liked to worry; said paranoia was a honed skill. And while Neal appreciated the concern, he felt a little put off by it. So he asked Mozzie for some time alone; he hadn't seen the shorter man since. That had been twenty-six lines ago. The conman rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness of the reset joint. Beddor would be coming soon.

Clarke Beddor was not a cruel man, he did what his job asked of him and nothing more. That was, until he met an inmate by the name of Neal Caffrey. The Con had gotten past Beddor's defenses and became almost a friend in a weird way. He stood out from the other inmates; he was nonviolent, sociable, and unusually relate-able. In no time he found himself looking forward to his shift on Caffrey's ward. After the second week of meeting with the con, He'd smuggled supplies from the art room, since the man so insisted staying in his cell. As a payment, Neal sketched a picture of Clarke's wife, Amanda, from a small photo he had in his wallet. When Neal gave the officer the portrait Clark was in awe. Neal captured everything from the way her dark blonde hair curled just so, to the dimples he adored so much. He thanked the kind con and showed the portrait to his wife, she was as surprised as Clarke, believing at first that he'd payed a professional.

He wondered what he'd tell Neal when his schedule changed again; the whole reason Beddor had taken on as many shifts as he did was because his wife had been pregnant with their first child; a boy no less. He'd taken enough extra shifts to enable him to cut his shift by half and still spend time with his little boy, Noah. This was the last day of his full shift.

His heart went out to the young inmate; he put up with a lot. Corman and the other guards found him to be an easy target for ridicule, and other inmates abused him due to his nonviolent nature, and then there was Baskov. Clarke cringed at the name; the man was one of the worst in Johnston's with charges ranging from human trafficking to murder. The Russian native had taken a special interest in Caffery, sending him unwanted looks and touches whenever possible; Beddor used to jump in before anything happened, but now he worried about his friend(?) He'd told Corman about the situation, to which he replied "I know, leave it alone" The tone Corman took left Beddor to believe his job was on the line so, like a coward; he listened.

Clarke tread down the ward; checking on each inmate as he made his way to the last one on the right. Neal was currently looking down at his hands, apparently deep in thought. He cleared his throat and the con man jumped, having not noticed him before.

"Clarke, when did you get here?" his blue eyes shined amicably. Clarke shook his head, noting that the black eye was improving well.

"Just got in, traffic as usual." he shrugged off his concern over how thin the other man was getting, he knew well enough that if he brought it up Neal would just deflect. That and mentioning the problem would really only make it worse for the younger man.

"You have something to say." Neal's ability to read people still amazed Clarke. The guard shifted his feet, he didn't want to feel guilty about what he was sure would happen to Caffrey but he couldn't help it.

"Amanda finally had the baby." he started, Neal's eyes lit up for a moment.

"Congratulations, you'll have to show me a picture . But, that isn't the only thing you want to say, is it?" Damn Caffrey was good. Beddor sighed, knowing what he was about to say would hurt the con man in more ways than one.

"My father wasn't around much when I was a kid and I don't really want my son to go through that either; I'm cutting my shift." the con man went unreadable for a moment before witching back to a smile.

"I wouldn't blame you Clarke. My father was the same way." there was a hint of something else in Neal's voice as he said that but the guard could not make it out. For once the pause between the two was tense, Neal looked away in favor of grabbing his art supplies.

"I'll be here." he sighed. "Just not as much." Neal looked up, flashing a megawatt smile.

"Don't worry, Ill be fine." Little did Beddor know that 'fine' in Neal Caffrey's dictionary was very different than his.

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Please Review, It makes Neal Happy


	4. Unguarded

Sorry about the delay, College is hell sometimes. Anyways here's chapter 4, hope it lives up to expectations... oh and i changed the rating cause some not very nice things are going to happen.

I Own nothing! enjoy

Warning: Neal Whump

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808 lines, over twenty-six months gone. Neal looked warily at the wall of black lines before him. When would it all be over? He picked up his marker and added one more for the day. He cringed, today was Corman's shift. He turned gingerly; favoring his right leg as he limped to his cot. He reached underneath for the portrait of the New York skyline, it had become a safety blanket for him – a glimpse of the world outside of these walls. He's given up on Kate years ago. She'd never visited, never showed any sign of caring about the man who'd given everything away for her. He found his thoughts wandering as usual to the past two years; Mozzie had visited a few times in the past year, he ignored the bruises Neal couldn't hide and thankfully didn't look at the inmate with too much pity. Not for the first time he wondered about the agent who'd captured him; he doubted Peter even thought about him now. Two years was a long time; he found himself incapable of hating the FBI agent. It had been a game to both of them and neither thought about the consequences. He wondered how the other man was doing, if he was probably wearing the same ugly suits, how life was with Elizabeth, and just how life in general was outside these concrete walls.

He placed the portrait back underneath his cot and leaned against the wall, one hand went to his leg, messaging the ache that was making itself well known. It would probably rain tonight, not that he would see it; the joint always ached with the rain. He tried not to think of the damage that was hidden under his clothes; the phantom pain of his knee as it... _No_ he was not going to think about the monsters his cell kept away from him. He wasn't going to think of how Corman just watched... _No!_ He shook his head, attempting to block out the thoughts that assaulted him. He was fighting a losing battle.

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_Day 680 started out like most days, Neal woke up drew up another line got ready for another day of working on projects in his little ten by ten world. The only other highlight was that it was Beddor's shift today and he would be let alone by the other inmates if he could only survive breakfast. Clarke was normally pretty good at sneaking the con lunch or dinner depending who else was splitting his shift. So, Neal waited patiently for the other man to arrive, not even bothering to look at his work, he would get time to sketch in a few more minutes._

_ The powers that be however, apparently had another plan for the young man. The door to his ward slammed open, the guard appeared; grinning cruelly as he progressed through the corridor. Neal couldn't see from his cell on the far end of the corridor; but he heard the baton thud against each bar of his neighboring cells. He cringed, knowing full well who was approaching his cell._

_ "Well, Well, Well if it isn't Neal Caffrey." Corman sneered as he came to a stop in front of Neal's cell. The other man however resisted the urge to roll his eyes _'who else would it be? Kinda locked in here' _ he instead attempted to smile at the other man, no use in ticking off the guard who already had an agenda against him. _

_ "and before you ask, No Beddor is not going to be with us today. It seems his little rugrat caught a bug. So it's just me and you today." He smirked taking pleasure in the way Caffrey flinched when his baton hit a bar particularly hard. The cell doors clinked open, almost as though on cue. "C'mon, Caffrey time for breakfast." Corman took a step back and waited for the conman to step out of his cell. Stepping behind the inmate he gave him a slight shove muttering to the younger man to keep moving._

_ Breakfast couldn't have gotten over sooner, Baskov however was no where to be found. And perhaps that was a good thing, however deep in Neal's gut he new it was nothing of the sort. Placing his tray aside he made his way out of the cafeteria. He walked quickly, sensing someone watching him as he walked back down another hallway. Rounding the corner he bumped into a figure, quite literally, muttering a quick apology he attempted to walk around the other man. The other man, who's name Neal could not seem to remember, stepped further in his way._

_ " Where do you think you're going?" he asked curiously. The man stood roughly six feet tall, a patch of brown hair atop his head with green eyes, and sleeve tattoos lined each arm._

_ "Back to my cell." Neal got a bad feeling about this man, who made to place a hand on his shoulder. Neal shrugged the limb off casually and took a step back. The other man looked put off,_

_ "C'mon, don't be like that." he started as he stepped closer to the shorter inmate. Neal was pressed against a wall, his blue eyes widened as he realized he was trapped._

_ "What are you doing?" He tried to keep his calm as the other man all but sized him up._

_ "What do you want me to do?" the taller man leered, leaning closer to Neal._

_ " I _want_ you to get away." Neal's voice was more confident than he felt at the moment. This however was not what the other man wanted to hear, his green eyes slanted and his grin morphed into a scowl._

_ "I'm sorry, that was the wrong answer." Neal never saw the punch coming, he found himself on the ground, dazed. The man never stopped, he kicked the conman swiftly in the ribs; relishing the sound of Neal gasp as the wind was knocked out of him. Neal attempted to curl into himself, knowing he was overpowered. A few more kicks and Neal felt a crack, he couldn't help the yell that came with it. After a while the man seemed to relent, Neal thought the worst was over. He was wrong, he felt another pair of hands grab him and pull him out of the position. He opened his eyes just in time to see the green eyed man lift his leg and stomp it down on Neal's knee before the pain finally made him black out._

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_I know, I'm horrible for a cliffhanger. sorry but I have an appointment with my counselor in a few minutes. Part two of this chapter will be updated by Black Friday._  
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